


Hoping For The Chance To Start

by ineffablefool



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (just a lil), (just mild pining), (not a main focus but he will always be lovely and round when i write him), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Mutual Pining, No Sex, No Smut, Other, another one with no swearing or problematic language! neato, hinting at romance but not actually any, it's the law you have to write a Crowley's Flat After The World Doesn't End fic right?, nothing happens but the ending is hopeful, this one is mine, you might be able to read as potential qpr but i'm a romantic sop so i cannot say for sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablefool/pseuds/ineffablefool
Summary: Another in the grand tradition of "Crowley's Flat After The World Doesn't End But Still Before That Last Prophecy" fics, featuring a little bit of mutual pining and things hovering delicately on the edge of all they might be, if only everything else works out.





	Hoping For The Chance To Start

**Author's Note:**

> A very short one, but when I wanna write 'em I write 'em and then once I've written 'em I post 'em. Not betaed; spelling and grammar corrections are welcome! Note that I pretty much always write ridiculously happy fluffy endings, but this one is more open-ended. If you happen to have already read any of my first three fics, be aware that this one is different, but also be aware that I have three more lined up that are happy.
> 
> I'm writing for the TV characterization, but I've decided that my written Aziraphale's body is shaped like how Tumblr user speremint draws him ([1](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186342035100/i-did-this-instead-of-my-hw-ya-girl-is-gonna)) ([2](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186227834150/i-just-need-more-chonky-aziraphale-will)) ([3](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186401300745/only-one-1-person-asked-me-my-opinions-on-a-role) and [4](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186574829700/finally-finally-done-making-these-refs-my) from her Reversed Omens AU), because I much prefer to imagine that as I work. 
> 
> Title is from "[Epic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3l1yAbwaSM)" by Calexico. The lyrics aren't particularly relevant, other than maybe the sentiment of the last line, but the entire album is lovely.

They don't say anything on the bus, or walking up to Crowley's flat. Even once they're inside, Crowley only waves with a grunt at the closet by the door, before stumbling out of his shoes, letting his jacket and sunglasses fall to the tile, and slouching onward. Aziraphale leaves his own shoes and coat neatly arranged before following.

He finds Crowley in a cavernous, gray room much like the hallway he's just come from, splayed over approximately ninety percent of a very sleek, very modern couch. Arms and legs sprawl in every conceivable direction. There is just enough room at one end for one person to sit. There is also a very modern chair, but the end of the couch seems as though it might be an invitation, and Aziraphale decides to take it. He sits in his usual prim way, hands clasped in front of him, and wonders how long either of them has before what they've done today comes due.

When Crowley begins squirming across the couch toward him, Aziraphale's first reaction is a flash of annoyance — what, did he really need the _entire_ thing? But it becomes very plain that Crowley is not, in fact, booting him off the couch when the demon's arms shoot out to clinch around his waist. Aziraphale's own hands leap into the air like startled doves as Crowley pulls himself closer. As he burrows his head against the angel's curving stomach.

Aziraphale freezes for approximately twelve eternities.

"Breathe, angel," Crowley mutters in the general direction of Aziraphale's knees. "I just... need you to be here, all right?" His wiry arms squeeze Aziraphale almost to the point of pain, then relax slightly. "Just be here."

Aziraphale tries to breathe calmly, but he still has his hands in the air, balanced awkwardly on nothing, looking down at his lapful of demon with his eyes so wide that he fears they'll pop right out of his skull.

Crowley just lies there. His head follows the rise and fall of Aziraphale's stomach, up, down.

Slowly, Aziraphale brings his hands back down again. One rests, lighter than a feather from one of his wings, on the demon's shoulder. The other hesitates just above Crowley's head.

The angel closes his eyes, fights a tremor in his lips. Eases his fingers into Crowley's hair.

Aziraphale combs through the scarlet locks, and no one stops him.

He can smell Crowley's hair, faintly, as he leans over him; it smells of soot, of burning metal and charring ash. He remembers the Bentley, but he also remembers what Crowley told him about the bookshop. He remembers Crowley, close to tears and drunk off his face in a bar, all plans for Alpha Centauri apparently scrapped when he'd thought the angel had been lost in the fire.

If Agnes's last prediction is correct, they will be facing other fires all too soon. Aziraphale knows better than to hope that she's wrong.

"Angel," Crowley mumbles. It doesn't sound like a question, or like it's leading to anything more. Just the name he's always had for Aziraphale, handed out like a rare gift, over and over again down through the ages.

"I'm here, Crowley." Aziraphale tries to keep the worry out of his voice. "I'm... not sure for how much longer, after everything. Not sure what we can do to stop them." He looks down at his oldest adversary, his dearest friend, and his lip quivers so hard that he almost can't finish. "But for now, I'm here."

Crowley slithers around until he is lying face-up in Aziraphale's lap, one cheek resting against the angel's belly. His glorious serpent's eyes look so tired, but they don't waver. "I'll do anything for you," he says. "Anything."

There is something else, a message Crowley has been sending without ever actually coming out and saying it, and Aziraphale thinks he is almost ready to accept that message. Almost ready to send one of his own right back. There's just that one prophecy left to work out.

"I believe you," Aziraphale whispers. His fingers smooth over the furrowed brow, working with all the tenderness he can muster into the demon's hair.

Crowley rolls over again, and his arms reclaim their place around Aziraphale's middle, and he sleeps. And Aziraphale begins to think.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this didn't come across as sad. I mean, we all know whether or not they figure out the prophecy.
> 
> If you want to say hi on Tumblr, I'm [ineffablefool](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com) there, too. It's mostly just reblogs of Good Omens things that I want to keep around, but there's [occasional original content](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/tagged/ineffablefool-original-post) here and there.
> 
> Also, for the record, it is my _dream_ that someday some artist likes one of my fics enough to draw something from it, so if you want to do that then I will absolutely kermitflail from happiness. I have only one request: please don't draw Aziraphale any thinner than speremint does (here's those reference links again: ([1](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186342035100/i-did-this-instead-of-my-hw-ya-girl-is-gonna)) ([2](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186227834150/i-just-need-more-chonky-aziraphale-will)) ([3](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186401300745/only-one-1-person-asked-me-my-opinions-on-a-role) and [4](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186574829700/finally-finally-done-making-these-refs-my) from her Reversed Omens AU)). Otherwise, the characters can look however you like!


End file.
